He leans down, pressing a kiss to Harper's forehead, his hand cradling her tiny head. "Be good for Nora, baby girl. Daddy's gonna make you proud."
Then he's gone, disappearing into the players' tunnel, and I'm standing in the arena concourse with a sleeping baby and a heart that's racing way too fast.
I miss him already.
The realization hits hard and suddenly. He's been gone for thirty seconds, and I already miss his presence, his nervous energy, the way he can't stop checking on Harper every five minutes like he's still half-convinced she might evaporate.
This is bad.
This is so bad.
Because I'm not supposed to miss him when he's gone. I'm not supposed to feel emptier when he's not around. I'm not supposed to be looking forward to this game, not just because Harper's first experience should be special, but because I want to watch Tyler play. I want to see him in his element and support him.
Professional.This issupposedto be professional.
But standing here in the arena, Harper in her WEST jersey, my heart still racing from his hand on mine in the car, I can't pretend anymore.
Somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a job.
And I have no idea what to do about that.
15
TYLER
The locker room is electric with pre-game energy, guys taping sticks and adjusting equipment, and blasting music from competing speakers. I'm sitting in my stall, staring at my phone, my equipment half on.
The photo on my screen is Harper in her jersey from this afternoon, the WEST and number 17 across the back is huge on her tiny body. She's smiling at the camera, one of those gummy baby smiles that make everything else disappear.
I make it my wallpaper. Lock screenandhome screen.
"You good, West?" Liam's standing in front of me, already in full gear except for his helmet. His goalie pads make him look even bigger than usual.
"Yeah." I lock my phone and shove it in my bag. "Just looking at Harper."
"Are both your girls here tonight?" He grins, leaning against the partition between our stalls.
Your girls.
I should correct him. Should say Harper's my daughter and Nora's her nanny; that's it, nothing more. But the words stick in my throat, and I just nod.
"Front row family section. Harper's wearing my jersey."
"Jesus, man." Liam laughs, shaking his head. "You're so fucked. You know that, right? Completely gone on both of them."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying. The way you talk about them, the way your face looks right now... you're in deep."
I don't answer immediately. The thing is, it's not like I've been opening up to the whole team. I haven't. Reaper's crowd still treats me like furniture. But at some point during practice, Danny started talking to me like I was a person, and then Rodriguez, and then Liam. Small things at first, hockey talk, nothing personal. Then one night on the team bus, Danny asked how Harper was doing—genuinely asked—and I'd answered before I'd thought better of it. After that, it was harder to pretend I had no life outside the rink. So yeah. A handful of them know more than I intended. And apparently I'm not as subtle as I thought.
"I need to focus on the game."
"Yeah, you do." He claps my shoulder pad. "But after? You should maybe think about what you're doing with the nanny you're clearly in love with."
He walks off before I can tell him he's wrong, which is probably for the best because I don't have a good argument anyway.
The team gathers for Reaper's captain’s speech ten minutes before we head out for warm-ups. We all crowd around him in the center of the locker room, and I end up toward the back because that's where I always end up. Where I belong, apparently.